


One Who Knew

by ausland



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cruciatus Curse (Harry Potter), F/M, Good Severus Snape, Headmaster Severus Snape, Prompt Fic, prize for 1000 reviews, snape has to make hermione a cruiciatus potion trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:55:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26019907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausland/pseuds/ausland
Summary: Prize for the 1,000th reviewer of For the Only Hope! In which Severus Snape is called to Malfoy Manor... only to rescue Hermione Granger from Bellatrix's torture. After he takes her to Hogwarts to heal her, they have three weeks before she can go. A lot can happen in three weeks- a story of healing, trust, and maybe even affection.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 38
Kudos: 224





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This story was a prize for the 1000th reviewer of For The Only Hope, my very long SSHG fic! Here was the prompt I filled:  
> My prompt was: Severus rescues Hermione from Bellatrix's torture at Malfoy Manner (maybe by suggesting he heal her & perform legilimency to "learn Harry's secrets" which would be easier to do if Bellatrix doesn't torture her until she goes insane or dies- he preserves his cover with Voldemort and still gets her away while Dobby helps the boys escape). Severus would bring her back (hidden) to his headmaster's quarters, heal her, and then get the fun task of figuring out how to work together to help end the war. To convince her they are on the same side, he would have to open up (legilimency or talking) about himself and they learn about each other and build trust. It's not necessarily romantic but a big deal because she learns more about him than anyone but Dumbledore knows, and they both see each other in a light other than just teacher-student. While it would most likely not be romantic at that point, they also gain an awareness of the other's physical state- he realizes she is a woman, albeit a malnourished one- and she sees him maybe in casual clothing and realizes he is a man, not a teacher in billowing robes, and they are both vulnerable. No sex scene, please, if you pick this one. I don't know if it is too involved for a one shot, but if I wrote a story this would be an angle I'd consider and I wouldn't make it just about sex- more about vulnerability and trust.
> 
> While it isn't exactly this, it is pretty close. :) I did my best!

Malfoy Manor rose high and intimidating in the twilight, spires twisting into the bruise colored sky. The elaborate gardens were smears of darkness, doted with specks of moving white- the peacocks. As Severus Snape stalked through the gates, cloak billowing, the storm that had been brewing for days finally released. Small droplets of water fell from the sky, accompanied with far off flashes of lightening.

Severus gritted his teeth and continued to the front door. Narcissa had called him to the Manor with a harried Floo call in which she refused to reveal the identity of the prisoner whom she wanted him to interrogate.

He lifted the heavy silver knocker, made in the shape of a serpent. The eyes were emeralds, yet another sign of the Malfoy's seemingly endless wealth.

Draco answered. Immediately Severus knew that something was very, very wrong- the boy's face was drawn and paler than it normally was, and his hands were shaking. The aristocratic Malfoy mouth was in a hard line, and his chin was set. "Snape," he sneered. "What are you doing here?"

"Your mother called me, Draco," Snape said brusquely. "Something about not letting your aunt kill an important prisoner."

Although his mouth curled in a scowl, something behind Draco's eyes relaxed. "Well, come in then," he snapped. "They're in the drawing room."

Severus knew his way through the house, through the halls with floors of marbles and impossibly high- magically high- ceilings. He heard the commotion before he saw it.

There was a high pitched, broken scream from the drawing room, and the low murmurs of voices. He knew Bella's voice, the mad crooning of a mad witch. But to his surprise he knew the screamer- it sounded familiar although he couldn't place it until the moment he saw the girl sprawled on the floor.

Severus absorbed the scene in an instant. Curly dark hair matted with blood was staining the bare marble floor; someone had thrown back the expensive rug to save it from the blood. There was an arm thrown out on the marble, an arm that had a fading tan and words etched in red blood and jagged skin. Wide brown eyes, open mouth, a scream that was suddenly cut short with gurgling blood. Bellatrix Lestrange laughing, wand almost casually pointed at the girl arched in pain on her sister's floor. Narcissa, her mouth in a hard line.

It was only one instant and then he is looking up at Narcissa. "You called?" His voice was calm but his mind was racing- _if Granger is here that means Potter and Weasley are probably here too. They've been captured somehow and I need to get them out._

"You called _Snape_?" snapped Bellatrix, releasing Hermione Granger from the spell. Where there once had been beauty (beauty that Severus remembered well considering it had been almost twenty years since Bellatrix Lestrange had been beautiful) there were also the ravages of time and Dementors. As she bore down on Narcissa shrieking, the girl on the ground gave a few ragged coughs, expelling more blood.

Severus knelt on the ground and took her chin in his hands, feigning brusqueness as he inspected her. "I'll take her and interrogate her elsewhere," he said after a moment. "You've damaged the prisoner, Bella. She might not live."

"She's a Mudblood," Bellatrix hissed. "She doesn't matter. If she dies I can start in on the blood traitor."

Severus sighed. "You grow tiresome, Bella," he drawled. "She'll be useless if you continue. I've had the chit in classes- she has something of a brain on her. If anything she memorizes information and regurgitates it accurately. She knows something, and I'm going to find it out. Start on the blood traitor if you must. I'm taking her with me."

"Ask her about how she got this," Bella shouted, pointing at a gleaming sword. One part of Severus felt his stomach drop to his feet, but he had been training as a spy for most of his life.

He gave Bella a cold smile. "From my office, obviously," he snarled. "After those abominable children attempted to take the copy in the Headmaster's Office, I duplicated it and placed the one in the case in my chambers. They stole the one on display, presumably to get to Potter. I simply repeated the process- they have no idea that it was fake."

Clearly unsatisfied, Bella turned her back on Severus. "Take her, then," she snapped. "Wormtail, get the others."

"I'll return," Severus said hastily. He flicked his wand at the girl lying motionless on the floor, levitating her so she floated behind him. The marble floors clicked under his boots, but other than that the silence was only marred by the ragged breathing for the form trailing behind him.

Without caring for propriety and manners, Severus Apparated from the Malfoy's door. Society would dictate that he should leave outside the gates, but she was loosing blood and consciousness quickly. He had to get her to Hogwarts and then get Potter and Weasley to safety.

Clutching her limp body in his arms, Severus turned on his heel to arrive at a discreet side gate in the walls of Hogwarts- very few knew about it, and even less knew how to enter. He had used it to leave grounds for his Death Eater meetings without scaring the students- it was close to his old quarters in the dungeons. He could go through there, Floo-

The weight of her in his arms strained his muscles, even as thin as she was. When he finally deposited her on the long couch in his set of rooms, Severus froze for a moment, breathing heavily. How surreal this was- things were coming to a head.

He exited through the Headmaster's office, ignoring the questions from the portrait of the most recent Headmaster- Albus Dumbledore. He wasn't in the mood for questions, for answering and accounting for every action.

The Floo in the office was open, allowing him to go directly through to Malfoy Manor. His previous friendship with Lucius served Severus well here- he could Floo directly into the drawing room.

Through the swirl of green fire he went, emerging into chaos.

A house elf was falling with the chandelier, Potter and Weasley were dueling with Narcissa and Draco, and Bellatrix was shrieking. As Severus stepped out of the fireplace, the house elf grabbed Weasley and Potter and disappeared.

_They're safe._

Severus smiled thinly at the mess in the Malfoy drawing room. There was a slight heat in his Dark Mark, and a small speck of darkness growing larger and taking the shape of a man in the night outside one of the shattered windows. It was time for him to leave once more.

The girl was still on his couch, her face lit by a fireplace not connected to the Floo network. This fire had dwindled down to mere embers, emitting a red glow that made shadows on the walls seem twice as tall and twice as terrifying.

He removed his outer robe, leaving it in his bedroom as he scanned his potions cabinet. She would need the Cruciatus Potion, yes, and a Blood Replenisher. If that knife was cursed, she might need an antidote.

Well. He wouldn't actually know until he looked at her, would he?

Kneeling by the sofa gave him the best perspective- still tall enough, but not towering over her. If she woke, he didn't want her to be terrified.

Scans told him that Bellatrix Lestrange had employed various means of torture, from Cruciatus to breaking several bones in her hand and wrist to carving into her skin. There were several slashes across her back, and a contusion on her head.

He was in for a long night.

As he toiled over her, pouring potion after potion down her throat, exhausting himself with complicated spells, her eyelids only ever fluttered. Hopefully he could put off the inevitable for a while longer- he just hoped she would still be herself when he finished. Bellatrix had a talent for separating body and soul through Cruciatus alone.

* * *

Pain. Pain was all she knew, hotfireburning pain and knifecuttingseparating pain and thuddingheadbanging pain. The Cruciatus wracked through her body, making her back arch until it was cut off and she fell back, her head making a _thwack_ as it collided with the marble floor.

Then black. Blissful black, with only a trace of the thuddingheadpiercing pain tethering her to her body. Hermione Granger was seriously considering sinking deeper into the black, leaving painpainpain for peace when strong arms picked her up and she was moving.

Moving far, far away from Narcissa, beautiful and proud and broken, scared. Standing half in front of the face that had been aching in its familiar beauty. Draco, the aristocrat's features that she had seen grow from round faced boy to lean man, this man watching her scream on his floor. His eyes told her that the round faced boy was the one watching her scream, despite the hollow cheeks and the height from which he was watching her. As much as she had hated him in school and he had hated her, she had never thought it would come to this.

 _Will Narcissa let him watch me die?_ Hermione had wondered hazily, when the torture had first started. _Or will she cover those eyes?_

Bellatrix. The name had always carried a shiver of fear but now it was more pronounced, now every cell in Hermione's body knew the name of Bellatrix Lestrange. It had been burned into them with the force of pain and terror. She could see that face in her mind's eye, beautiful and terrible. High cheekbones, like Sirius, wide dark eyes that had sunk into her face, like Sirius. Rank breath, yellow teeth, wild hair similar to Hermione's own. A high lilting voice that demanded and a hand heavy with rings that slapped and nails that dug into Hermione's skin.

She was glad to be moving away.

She was gladder when she was no longer floating- how unnatural to float in the air that was why she hated brooms- and strong arms were anchoring her to her body rather than the achingthuddingshaking pain. Arms and a warm chest. First she thought it might be Harry, since he was warm and smelled good, but then it must have been Ron because she was up high in the air.

But then it couldn't be Ron because when her eyes fluttered open she saw black hair and white skin and Ron had red hair- and besides, Ron didn't smell so good like juniper and cinnamon and herbs and wood smoke. She focused on the heartbeat under her ear to distract listening to the steady thumping.

And then she was floating on softness and she could feel warmth and finally she sunk into a fitful sleep, without the strong arms and warm chest and the thudthudthud of the heartbeats.

* * *

He collapsed next to her when he had finished, with only the rug to keep him from the chill of the flagstones. At least the Headmaster's Quarters were much warmer than his previous dungeon quarters, where he could have very well frozen to death by sleeping on the floor in the midst of winter. Spring would have been safer- but even in these last weeks of March, snow was still refusing to melt on the Hogwarts grounds and harsh winds howled at night.

The magical cuckoo clock that had been Dumbledore's woke him before the sunrise- he pulled himself off the floor and stood, looking at her in the grey light from the window and the barest hint of glow from the fireplace.

Her hair was matted with blood, as much as he had tried to siphon it off. At least it was like a pillow for her. In the center of the riot of hair, her face was a pale oval. Her summer tan had nearly faded from the long winter, and there was nearly no color to her face. She looked still as death. Her eyelids were blueish, her lips pale and chapped. A long neck, thin shoulders- her entire body was thin. If he had known that food was scarce for them he would have done something- but Potter had looked hale enough and Weasley even more so.

But Weasley had left them, returned to civilization and home cooked meals while Potter and Granger had starved in a cold tent. If he knew her at all- and for some reason he felt that he did- Granger would have given Potter more of the food, probably without his knowing. The sharp protrusion of collarbones and hipbones and ribs had told him this and made Severus Snape furious. _(this was a woman who gave and gave and gave and yes severus snape knew what it was to give to those who didn't know who would never know and he knew that the giving left a bitter taste in his mouth just as hunger had left a bitter taste in hers the taste of food cooked but not eaten the smells that coat the back of the throat never to be swallowed)_

Severus exhaled slowly, pushing his anger back to the place in his mind where all his anger raged and boiled and frothed- there it would be stored until he needed it.

She needed to be warmed. He would move her to his bed- not with magic. Although his brief sleep had replenished it, he preferred to do it the Muggle way. With a slight groan- his back protested lifting her- he rose with the girl in his arms and made his way to his bedroom.

He hardly slept here anyway. More often, on the rare occasions when sleep did find Severus Snape, he was hunched over papers on his desk or stretched out on the very sofa he had just lifted her from. Tucking her into his bed was strange only because he was meant to sleep here- but it would be put to a better purpose.

Before he left the room, he lit the braziers and fire place, getting his bedchamber as warm as he could. It wouldn't do for the girl to catch a chill, not with what had already happened to her.

He was tired enough to fall asleep in the chair next to her, but he had appearances to keep up. To the Great Hall he went, to another day as the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. There was only one thing that he had to do first.

* * *

On the coast a strong wind blew, a wind that bore something small and white with an almost supernatural precision. A note appeared on the flagstones of Shell Cottage, to be picked up by Bill Weasley. He opened it warily, after using his expertise as a curse breaker to make sure it was safe.

_She is safe, and being healed. With Order members._

Bill bowed his head in relief. When he straightened, he yelled, "Ron! Harry!"

* * *

"The girl is dead, my lord," Severus said, looking up at the snake-like man sitting at the head of the Malfoy dining table like a king. "Her injuries were too severe."

Lord Voldemort sighed. "You are a Potions Master, Severus," he hissed. "Are you telling me you were unable to save her?"

"From an extended bout of Cruciatus, several curses, and Muggle torture methods? Yes," Severus drawled, exuding as much confidence as he could. "I'm a Potions Master, not a healer, and she had the weak constitution expected of a Muggle."

"Did you get any information from her before she died?" asked the Dark Lord. "Anything at all, Severus?"

Severus smiled thinly. "They are losing hope. Potter, Weasley, and the girl. For the past months they've been grasping at straws, completely unsure of what to do. Dumbledore left them no instructions, and they are floundering."

The pale face split into a grin that revealed sharp teeth. "Excellent."

* * *

There was warmth again, the softness of a mattress, and that same smell of potions and juniper and cinnamon. Hermione could feel herself coming up through the blissful dark to wakefulness, awareness.

Her entire body ached. She could feel a dull stinging in her arms, a general weakness in her bones, throbbing pain in her back, and a curious sensation like all her nerves were on the fritz.

 _We must be somewhere safe or I wouldn't be in a bed,_ thought Hermione. It was difficult to form coherent thoughts- her mind felt as if it was swimming and while close to the surface, it had yet to break into fresh clear air.

Her eyelids were heavy, and it took several tries to open them. The first thing she saw was the ceiling- high, arched, with an elaborate painting of the Lady of the Lake giving King Arthur a sword. She let her eyelids close, then opened them again, trying to turn her head to the side. There was a sense of unease prickling now, worry. She had never been to this place before. While her eyes were still closed it might have been the Burrow or Number 12, but she should have known. The Burrow smelled like cooking and Number 12 of dust- not of juniper and cinnamon.

She must have made a small noise as she struggled to turn her head, because there was the sound of someone getting up near her, moving toward her.

"Do not struggle over much, Miss Granger," a smooth voice said. "You are still very weak. You must return to sleep, after I check to insure that your cognitive function has not been impaired."

Hermione knew that voice. Years of Potions Lessons, hearing it curl around insults and snap out directions or mock in that same smooth tone-

She gasped, tried to move away from him, but her body refused to move as she wished it. Her heart was beating faster and faster, making her chest ache as she tried to scramble away find her wand-

And then total control of her body was lost. Spasms wracked her entire body, and Hermione felt the reoccurring pain of the Cruciatus, dulled, spreading through her limbs. Dimly she could feel strong hands grasp her chin and force her mouth apart, pouring some potion that tasted like mint and asparagus down her throat.

Her breathing slowed, and as the seizures gradually stopped she came back to herself. The man- Professor Severus Snape- was talking.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Miss Granger. You were being tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange; I took you from Malfoy Manor to save your life. Your friends know that you are safe. I understand you are probably quite confused, I will answer all questions once I have ascertained that you are healing as you should." Her eyes opened to meet his, a grey so dark they were nearly black. "Say something."

She glared at him. "Why?" she croaked. It hardly sounded like a word- but something in his face relaxed.

It wasn't the Potions Professor she had seen all her days at Hogwarts. Snape was in a simple white button down shirt and black slacks, with billowing robes nowhere to be seen. His hair was pulled away from his face with a simple tie, making his nose seem even larger and more hawk-like than before. Still, there was a scowl on his face and underneath the thin material of his shirt she could see a darkness shifting on his arm that had to be his Dark Mark.

Snape was moving away from her, pocketing the empty vial. "Because I wanted to be sure that the Cruciatus didn't leave you mindless," he snapped. "Good. You obviously have your memories, if you reacted to me in such a way, and you don't seem to have any type of aphasia or-"

"Why did you help me?" she interrupted. "Death Eater." He was fetching what looked to Hermione like a Dreamless Sleep potion, but she couldn't be sure, not with a Death Eater like this around-

"In name only," Snape replied. "You need to sleep. Drink this."

Hermione pushed herself up. "No," she said firmly. "How can I trust you?"

"You can't," he snapped. "When you're well we can talk more. But for now I need you to drink this." When her face remained mulishly set, he frowned. "Did Potter and Weasley tell you how they found the sword?"

She nodded cautiously.

Severus handed her the vial, then drew his wand. "Expecto Patronum," he cast, closing his eyes. A silver doe bounded about the room, then turned to Hermione. It nuzzled her, then turned to Severus expectantly. He made a shooing gesture, and it bounded away, fading on its second leap.

He stared after it, turning with a slight jump at a small popping sound. Hermione had pulled the cork from the vial. When their eyes met, she drank.

* * *

When she woke again, he wasn't there. On the bedspread, by her hand, was a folded note.

_Miss Granger,_

_In case you do not recall our last encounter, let me remind you that it is in your best interests to trust me. You were being held in Malfoy Manor, with Potter and Weasley, enduring torture at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. I have brought you here, so that you may heal and rest._

_Potter and Weasley know that you are safe, although the Dark Lord thinks that you are dead._

_The Cruciatus was used heavily on you, although you seem to have retained full mental capacity. However, the side effect of many minutes under the spell (especially by a witch as powerful as Bellatrix Lestrange) include phantom pains and seizures. Drink the potion in the small vial on your nightstand if you begin to have another seizure, followed by one swallow of the Dreamless Sleep. If I have taught you anything in your time at Hogwarts, you should be able to recognize it. If you poison yourself I will have no sympathy._

_Your wand is on the nightstand, but do not try any spells. Another symptom of extended Cruciatus use is a drain on the magical core. Again, disobey my warning at your own risk._

_I'm sure you have many other questions, rest assured that those I deem appropriate will be answered when I return. As Headmaster of Hogwarts, I have many duties. I might not return until late, although I will endeavor to look in on you before dinner._

_SS_

Hermione put down the note slowly, after reading it twice. A look at the clock above the wall told her that she was a half hour away from dinner, and that if he would be returning it would be soon.

How strange. He was a Death Eater, she knew that first hand. But he was also an Order member, that she knew as well.

But he had killed Dumbledore.

But he had rescued her.

Severus Snape was a confusing mess that Hermione didn't exactly want to think about.

* * *

"You trusted me once, can't you do it again?" he snapped irritably. "I didn't poison you the first time."

Hermione crossed her arms. "I know. But I'm just about healed now, so I need more information. How long have I been here? How do Harry and Ron know I'm safe? Why are you helping me? Why did you kill Dumbledore?"

Severus let something that sounded like a growl escape. "You're asking all the easy questions, aren't you?" he said sarcastically.

"Yes," Hermione replied pertly. "Now answer. Please."

"Three days, I left them a note, I'm not really a Death Eater, and because he asked me to," Snape rattled off. "I've answered, now drink."

Hermione considered for a moment, then sipped at the flask. "Thank you," she said, her voice slurring as she began to fall into sleep.

* * *

"The Granger girl is alive, Albus," Severus snapped at the portrait.

It frowned at him. "Are you sure that was wise?"

Severus suppressed the urge to incinerate the image. Even if he did the painting would not be harmed, only the frame would. "Yes," he said shortly. "Potter and Weasley depend on her. I've let them know she is safe."

"When will you be returning her to the boys?" asked Dumbledore. He raised two painted white eyebrows. "Surely you weren't planning to keep her here."

"Only until she is healed," he replied. "She would be a liability to them in her current state."

* * *

It was very strange to be in the sitting room of the Headmaster of Hogwarts- and even stranger that the current Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was Severus Snape. Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, very wrong, even as she accepted a cup of tea from him.

Hermione was cautiously seated in a fluffy winged armchair, one that she was quite certain was a relic of Albus Dumbledore. Severus had a chair made of sterner stuff, dark leather and brass. It was worn, however, which told her it had been in his possession for a long time.

It was her first day out of bed ( _she had been sleeping in his bed this entire time?!)_ and Severus had judged the distance from the bed to the armchair just enough to test out her legs.

Her steps had been shaky and Severus' arm was heavily leaned upon as she struggled to make the distance- but she had succeeded, and was now watching the fire with him, a cup of tea in her hands.

"Why am I so weak?" Hermione asked softly. "I read about the Cruciatus and it never mentioned anything like this."

Severus sighed, not looking at her. "What one could call a 'normal' bout of the Cruciatus lasts for less than a minute and it is only one or two castings. It was only in the first years of the war that it was discovered what an extended period of time under the influence of the Cruciatus would do to a wizard, mainly thanks to the efforts of one Bellatrix Lestrange." He gave her what might have been a sardonic nod. "More than ten rounds of the curse lasting between six to eleven minutes total is enough to result in a state like the Longbottoms or death. Between that and a normal bout results in seizures, weakness, and muscle spasms."

They sat in silence as Hermione absorbed the information. "Why did Dumbledore ask you to kill him?"

Severus' head whipped around to stare at her. "What?"

"I asked why Dumbledore wanted you to kill him," Hermione said again, enunciating. "You haven't killed me yet- in fact you healed me. You said that you identify as loyal to the Order but the fact remains that you killed the head of the Order and the one man who many said was the only person V- You-Know-Who every feared. So why?"

He sat there, frowning at her. "I don't owe you any answers, Miss Granger" he said after a long moment.

"Far from it," Hermione agreed. "If you don't want to answer, that's fine. I just have one more question."

"I don't believe I can stop you from asking it," Severus said irritably. "Go on, then."

Hermione tilted her head, looking past him at the darkening sky outside his window. "When will I be able to go out and find them? To help them? When- when will I be cured?"

Severus followed her gaze- it was the end of another day. Outside of the walls of Hogwarts the Dark Lord was growing ever stronger and the Wizarding Resistance was crumbling slowly. Things were drawing to a head- or would be drawing to a head soon. "Three weeks," he said, staring at the stars. "I have a potion I'm in the midst of brewing."

"Thanks," she said after a moment. "And you can call me Hermione, you know," she added. "I'm not exactly a student anymore."

* * *

She was sleeping again, her hair dark on the white pillowcase. Severus closed the door, glad that the slight intrusion had not bothered her. Hermione was curled into a protective ball- she had endured another slight seizure, much better than the ones she had experienced immediately after her torture. This one had lasted barely thirty seconds, a good sign.

The girl was surprising him. No... she wasn't exactly a girl any longer. Eighteen- long past the Wizarding majority and the Muggle one. And no one could still be a child after what she had gone through.

Severus had seen many tortures and no one left a scene like that with any kind of innocence left in them. _(even the children had something stripped away by the time they left because it was a tainted act)_

There was something dark and foul about the act of deliberately hurting another human being, especially one that was defenseless and undeserving. Faces haunted Severus, faces that were being drained of their innocence.

Hermione Granger had been his student, in his care, for years. All the students of Hogwarts had been. He had seen her round eleven-year-old face transform into a woman's face, he had seen her handwriting shrink and her essays become nearly flawless. For most former students, when he looked at them he still saw the child.

With her that was no more. The face that shifted beneath her own was not bucktoothed and eager, it was a mask of terror and pain screaming, always screaming, with blood and marble-

Severus bowed his head, ignoring the work on his desk. People didn't normally bother him like this- but he was finding that he... liked wasn't the right word. He respected her, certainly. He didn't hate her. In fact, she was was higher in his esteem than any of the Weasleys or Potter himself.

For now, she was sleeping and he had another sleepless night in front of him. There was work to do, work that would distract him from the voice telling him that he should talk to her, should explain.

The voice that said that if he was going to die someone should know the truth. _(because not even dumbledore had made it out of the war alive and dumbledore was the only one who knew about severus and not just snape)_


	2. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my wonderful readers!
> 
> The last chapter, as promised. Some time jumps, here. Enjoy!

He heard her screaming and ran from his office to his rooms. Fear was flooding his body- had one of the Carrows discovered her? Was it a curse that he hadn't found? Was someone taking her-

No. It was merely a dream, a nightmare that had one of the bravest people he had even seen screaming and writhing on the bed. _(who was he to say it was merely a dream he who knew what dreams could do and how they could hurt the night ones and the days ones like)_

"Wake up," he commanded, sitting on the bed and grasping her shoulders. The bones of her body were fragile yet hard under his hands. "Miss Granger!" When she didn't respond, he shook her lightly. "Hermione!"

Her eyes flew open with another strangled scream and she was clutching at him, tears falling hot and fast on his shirt. Hermione had a death grip on him, and her head was buried in the crook between neck and shoulder.

Wordlessly he gathered her to him, awkwardly stroking her hair as she sobbed into his shirt. _(no one had ever cried on him before why was she crying on him make her stop no don't when she's done the warmth will be gone how long had it been since someone had held him since he had held someone)_

When she calmed, he performed the perfunctory spell to remove the traces from her face. "What was it, Miss Granger?" he asked cautiously.

"You called me Hermione before," said the woman, pulling away slowly. He ached for the warmth she was denying him and hated himself for it.

He just raised an eyebrow at her. "It is your name," he said waspishly. "If you don't wish to discuss the dream-"

"I was alone," Hermione said, interrupting and resting a hand on his arm, to keep him from rising. The moonlight from the windows was scarce, and he could barely see the light reflecting off her eyes and being absorbed into her hair. She was play of light and dark, her mouth a dark slash in the white of her face, her eyes dark and shiny, her hair framing her head and neck.

"I was alone and then I wasn't; you were with me and so was Draco and you were looking at him and saying something to him and then he disappeared and you disappeared and it was just me and Harry and Bellatrix and-" her breath caught up to her and she stumbled over her words.

She calmed herself, and stilled. It was the time of the night when sound is almost sacrilegious and the only words permissible are secrets. "I'm so scared of the war and of fighting," she admitted in a near whisper. "I'm scared of pain and of dying. I'm scared, Pro-" Her face twisted in an action he could see.

"Severus," he said, understanding the expression for what it was. "As you said earlier. You are no longer a child and I am no longer anything like a teacher."

"I'm scared, Severus," Hermione whispered again. "Sometimes I feel so scared I don't know how my heart doesn't explode from fear. Or I can't move and the terror is just overwhelming."

It was the lateness that made him say it, the hour and the darkness and his own weariness. "I know," he whispered back. "The feeling that everything went wrong and you should've or could've fixed it but-"

"Now it's too late," Hermione finished. Her hand curled on his arm, in a gesture that was almost like she was stroking his arm. "It's the end of the world and we're all going to die."

Severus shook his head. "Not everyone," he said roughly. "Tell my story when I'm dead." It was a plea, a demand, a question.

"If you tell it to me," answered Hermione, making the promise he asked of her. Her voice was rough from screaming, but her hand and her eyes were sure and he had never trusted anyone like this.

_(why would he trust her she was just a girl a woman with eyes like honey and a voice like a thousand kept promises who had listened to him and trusted him with her life and who clutched at him in the dark of the night with the echos of her own screams rebounding in both their ears as she cried on him and gave him her warmth as she drew comfort from him where had she gotten it from she had pulled warmth from him just as he pulled warmth from her no she was the sun and he was the moon just reflecting only ever as brilliant as she was)_

It spilled from his mouth unbidden, the prince's tale. He told her how he had never met anyone as brilliant as Lily, that no one with a head of fire and eyes that were spring had ever cared about him before. How he had believed her when she said they'd be friends forever. How they had grown apart, how he had killed her.

How a boy who didn't know who to grow into a man was shunned by the Light and welcomed by the Dark. How he hadn't meant for it all to happen. How he was seduced by Lucius Malfoy and Tom Riddle and the pureblood elite of society, how desperately he had craved the sense of belonging and deservedness they all wore as cloaks.

How he had managed to hold in the vomit until he had been alone, how he had retched until there had been nothing left inside of him, until his body felt as empty as his soul. How he had been so angry at the people who had driven him to his choice he had given the prophecy to the Dark Lord with hardly another thought.

How when Lily had died he had grieved, not for her sake _(he had let go of her long ago by a lake with the blood rushing to his head)_ but for the death of what she had represented to him: the one true friend whom he had killed.

How when Dumbledore had accepted him into the Order he felt as if he finally had a chance at redemption.

How that hope had deserted him before spring.

How he had balanced precariously on the fringes of each society, accepted but despised. Not a true Order member, not a trusted Death Eater. Beholden to two powerful masters, one Light one Dark but both corrupt.

How he would die before the war was out and no one would ever know that _he wasn't an awful person or at least not as awful as people thought he was._

* * *

In the light of the day he was a normal man again and she a normal woman. They had fallen asleep on the bed, and he had awakened when the grey light of a spring dawn brushed his face.

Looking down at her he felt a thread of panic. In sleep her face was more peaceful- there was a furrow from fretting in her brow still and her hands were clenched but her mouth was soft and her lashes long. The roundness that the long winter had stolen from her face could be reimagined here, something to ease the harsh cut of her jaw and the jut of her collarbones.

He had told her everything. Severus had only ever told half to Dumbledore and half to the Dark Lord but she- she had cast something over him, a spell of tears and warmth and night that had made him confess. He had confessed, confessed wrong doing and innocence and fault and blame and regret, and she had given him an atonement he did not feel in the light of the day.

It was so far away it felt like a dream. _(dreams have the power to hurt severus knows this well but this dream had healed and when it had faded away it had hurt even more)_

* * *

Hermione watched Severus Snape with new eyes.

He moved around the small room with grace and power, his face always impassive. There was no hint of the pain he had revealed to her the night before, the story that had left her crying again. He had told it all to her in the dark of the night, his voice low and smooth and sad.

When he left to patrol the school she read from his bookcase, half lost in thought.

She had never known.

No one knew, no one except Dumbledore who was dead.

And now her.

She, Hermione Granger, knew this man's secrets. Severus Snape was reviled across Wizarding England by Death Eaters and Order alike. He had killed Albus Dumbledore, loved by many. He had taken Hogwarts, he had betrayed his masters both many times over. He was cruel, he was harsh, he was cold.

Except Dumbledore had begged this man, begged him to become a murderer again, begged him for death at the hand of a friendly wand. Begged him to spare his godson. He protected Hogwarts, keeping the Carrows in line, giving detentions with _Hagrid_ of all people. Hermione had seen a man who was capable of regret, remorse, of the most human of all fears: of dying and leaving behind a memory of only wrong.

Her heart had torn for him.

* * *

"Drink this," he commanded, sitting on the bed as he handed her a flask. "It should help."

Hermione gazed up at him, his face blurry through a haze of tears. The pain was back, it had flared in her back and had torn through her body again, leaving the seizures behind for an ache that was overwhelming.

She tried reaching for the flask but couldn't force her arms to move. He understood, uncorking the vial and pressing it to her lips so she could drink.

Once the potion was gone Severus started to move away. There was the sense that perhaps this was a private thing, the pain that was making her lose control of her body in such a horrible fashion. But no- she grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly.

"Please," she begged, her voice nearly a whimper. "Stay."

The tears on her cheeks didn't make him agree. No, it was the tightness of her hand that told him that she _needed_ him there, it was her eyes that pleaded with him now and had cried for him the night before.

"Of course," he replied smoothly, shifting to make it more comfortable for both of them.

* * *

They had fallen asleep together again, but this time he was supporting her weight. Severus was leaning back against the headboard, with the woman's head resting on his chest. She was still clutching his hand- there were still red marks from where she had gripped so tightly he had gritted his own teeth in pain.

He had given her comfort, though. That, at least, was something. She had asked him for it, rather than struggle through the pain alone, as he would have done.

Although the sun was rising, he decided to wait to rise, as to not wake her. If he didn't appear at breakfast it wouldn't be a tragedy.

* * *

"Do you like Hoffman?" Severus asked casually, identifying the book she was reading with a glance.

Hermione nodded, looking up from the heavy tome. "He has interesting theories on how Magical governments influenced the formation of Muggle governments and vice versa," she said happily. "But the only reason I picked this one up was because I had read some of his work in Transfiguration theory last year."

Giving her a grave nod, Severus crossed the room to a bookshelf half hidden in shadow. "He is a varied warlock, and also did research into Potions," he called over his shoulder. "If you would be interested in reading it, I have an original copy of his text."

Finding the small, leather bound book, Severus plucked it from the shelf and took it over to Hermione. She took it with reverent hands, turning it over to look at the back cover. He noticed that she was one of _those_ people who stroked books, as if they were small pets who could feel affection.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a large grin.

* * *

Normally, when Severus brewed, the act of creating a potion from the most unlikely of ingredients took all of his concentration. He was unaware of things happening outside his small realm of a workroom.

Except now.

The woman was perched on a stool, pouring over the book he had given her by Hoffman. She read quickly, her eyes moving fast. By measuring the rate she was turning pages, he estimated that her reading speed was twice that of his.

She was intelligent- not just smart as he had thought. Any student could have written the papers she had submitted to his class (had they spent eight hours researching the material and a basic understanding of sentence structure and grammar). Hermione Granger had not used her own thoughts enough, at least not until the end of her fourth year.

But in the recent days she had surprised him with animated conversations about Transfiguration and Potions theory- as well as her willingness to accept that she was wrong (after arguing the point for at least an hour and demanding an explanation). He found that he had enjoyed the conversation, the opportunity to talk about something other than the war.

Even as his hands chopped and ground and stirred, half of his attention was focused on the woman reading a few meters away. She had an odd kind of beauty that wasn't quite perfect. Large brown eyes that were compelling, skin that was reasonably clear, hair that had an odd charm of its own. Her mouth was full, her nose too long (but who was he to complain about anyone's nose?).

And she was kind, too. He had seen it over the years as she struggled to help Longbottom and other students, never trying to lord her competence and skill over them.

Severus Snape was realizing, slowly, that he quite liked Hermione Granger.

* * *

He was something to look at as he brewed, Hermione mused. There had always been a grace around Severus Snape, as if he had exacting knowledge of his body and how to use it best to his advantage. There was the knowledge of his own power and his own skill- he understood that he could singlehandedly defeat every person in a room, and he expected everyone else to understand it too.

Severus' hands were quick and sure as they chopped and diced- she swallowed hard and looked back at the book. Half of her returned to the book, but the other half turned over her new opinion of Severus Snape.

It took a lot to change Hermione Granger's mind- but once convinced, it was convinced. A month ago she hated this man, and now- now she was feeling something quite different. She liked him, found him witty and acerbic and even, perhaps, a bit attractive.

Not in the conventional sense- more in that he was masculine, very much so, and she had been stuck in a tent with Harry Potter of all people for far too long. And he was powerful and so smart- she had always liked intelligence in men.

But no. It was more that one, single night in which everything had changed. Everything. There were no fitting words to describe the feeling of being honored in such a way- he thought he was dying and so he had given her his story, trusting that she would not let it be forgotten or deserted.

Trusting that she would give his memory the respect that it deserved.

Trusting that she would believe him, that she would defend him, that she of all people was worthy enough to know the truth.

She had cried more tears than she had when she was motionless in pain, pain that he had stayed with her through. It was something simple, and yet, she was finding she loved him in an odd sort of way for it. It was the kind of thing that Harry or Ron might have done... but this was a gesture that came from Severus Snape and was therefore to be granted the significance it was due.

* * *

They stood in the sitting room in front of the fire. In Severus' hand was a clear phial with a cloudy liquid. Wordlessly he offered it to the woman before him.

Hermione uncorked it, then tilted her head back and drank it all in one gulp. She handed the phial back to him, and he pocketed it.

"It will take about an hour to take full effect," said Severus, his voice quiet. "It will begin to repair the damage done to your nerves by the Cruciatus. The process will take about four hours- and then you will be fine to return to Potter. I'll Apparate you to the place where they are hiding." He hesitated, then told her the truth. "It will be painful," he said quickly. "I've taken it myself and the pain is hellish. I would offer you Dreamless Sleep but it would interfere with the reparation potion."

She nodded, but slowly. He could sense her fear, whether it was fear of pain or fear of returning to the world at war.

"Would you like some tea?" Offering some form of comfort was the least he could do, Severus reasoned.

"Yes, please," Hermione said gratefully.

He gave her a crooked smile. "Sit. I'll prepare it."

For the next half hour they drank tea and talked in low voices- of the war, the topic that had been taboo until that point.

"He grows stronger," Severus told her, meeting her eyes. "His people are everywhere. Even if he is defeated, the Ministry is corrupt inside and out."

"I remember," Hermione said, a distant look in her eye. "The Muggleborn Registration Committee. Trials with Dementors. It was terrifying."

After about forty-five minutes, her breathing grew more labored. At fifty minutes, sweat was appearing along her hairline and she was biting her lower lip hard. After the full hour had passed, she made a small sound of pain.

"It's starting," Severus said, clenching his jaw. He didn't want to see her in pain. "Do you want to go to the bed?"

Hermione glanced at the bedroom, measuring the distance. "I'd like to but I don't think I can," she said regretfully. "I should have thought of it when the pains first started."

He knew that the first signs that the potion was working was little pricks, similar to a hand or foot falling asleep then jolting into sensitive life. Then the pain that had been small and merely irritating grew more painful and more present- until it felt like every nerve was afire again, every muscle protesting, every bone breaking.

It would be better to be in a bed.

"It's no matter," he said smoothly, offering her a hand to stand. She struggled to her feet, something in her face telling him that she was stealing herself to walk over to the bedroom herself. Carefully, he hooked an arm under her knees and lifted her.

"Wha-" She squeaked, clinging to his neck. "What do you think you're doing, Severus Snape?"

He looked down at her, slightly worried that she was angry. "Helping you to the bed," he replied. "I wasn't about to make you walk there."

"Oh," was all she had to say. She was silent for a moment, then looked up at him. "Thank you."

When she was settled on the bed, he hovered for a moment, unsure of what she wanted. Hermione took care of the problem for him, tilting her head to look up at him. "Stay with me?"

He sat, offering his hand to her. "Of course," he replied smoothly.

Like before, she took his hand and squeezed it lightly in thank you. "Try not to break my fingers this time," he said wryly. "You did a fine job avoiding that last time, and I feel I must remind you that should I survive this farce of a war my livelihood will be potion making, for which I need all my fingers to be in working order."

She laughed, as he had wanted her to. Then she squeezed his hand tighter, a reflex from the pain.

It was beginning.

* * *

Five hours later, Hermione and Severus stood once more in his siting room. Hermione, freshly showered and feeling much healthier, was reading a scrap of paper, on which the words _Shell Cottage_ were written in a neat script she recognized as Remus Lupin's.

"You won't believe what I had to do to get that," Severus said wryly. "So I won't tell you. I have one more thing for you, and it is absolutely essential that you understand its importance." He handed her a necklace, from which a small phial hung, filled with a clear potion.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, securing it around her neck and fumbling with the clasp.

Severus sighed, brushing aside her hair and clasping it himself. "It's the antivenin for Nagini's venom," he replied, stepping away. "The Dark Lord likes to use it to kill people- this could save Potter or Weasley if you need it to. There is an unbreakable charm on it, do not worry about breaking it."

Hermione turned and flung her arms around him in a quick hug. "Thank you," she said into his shirt. "Thank you."

Severus held her for a moment, then let her pull away without comment. He checked his watch, then gestured to the sheet of paper. "Can you Apparate yourself there?"

"I can," Hermione said. There was color and heat in her cheeks, and this was making it dissipate. "Won't we need to go outside, though?"

She was loathe to leave him- walking outside would give them more time. Unless of course, he sent her out alone...

"No, we don't," Severus said, giving her a small, self-satisfied smirk. "The Headmaster of Hogwarts can raise or lower the Anti-Apparition wards on any part of the castle at any time. Remember- every year, the Headmaster takes them down in the Great Hall for Apparition lessons."

"But _Hogwarts: A History_ says-" Hermione began, then frowned and stopped herself. "Oh. That's fascinating!"

He shook his head, overcome by the urge to laugh. Thankfully, it was easily suppressed. "Go directly there," he ordered her. "Knock at the door, and expect to be confronted about your identity. But don't tell them that it was me who helped you."

"I know, Severus," she said, looking down and away. Hermione gave him back the piece of paper, allowing an image of Shell Cottage to come before her eyes. "Are the wards down?"

For a moment he was silent, eyes closed. When he opened them again, he nodded. "For the next three and a half minutes," he said, satisfied.

Hermione took a steadying breath. "Thank you for everything," she said taking a step closer to him. "For saving me, for healing me, for- for confiding in me."

"As strange as it seems I wouldn't change my choice," Severus told her, offering her a nod. "I- I wanted at least one person to know."

There was a sudden fire of determination in her eyes that warned him of what she was going to do in the moments before she did it. He did nothing to stop her, nothing to defend himself or push her away.

In a moment her arms were wound around his neck and she was kissing him gently at first, but when his arms crushed her to him she opened her mouth to his and pressed her tongue to his.

And then she was pulling away and he was letting her go and she was Apparating with tears streaming down her face.

* * *

The questions from the boys were endless. Everything at Shell Cottage seemed to bright after weeks indoors, with only firelight and occasionally some natural light from the windows of the Headmaster's rooms. Even the smell of the sea seemed intrusive.

When she had stumbled to the cottage, still crying, Fleur had opened the door and nearly cursed Hermione. At wandpoint she was invited inside, questioned, and then smothered with hugs.

Ron, with his large baby blue eyes and hair that was nearly as long and red as Bill's, was the worst. He had picked her up and swung her around, and then the incessant questions started.

Harry had just hugged her for a long while, squeezing her tighter than was comfortable.

Neither would have ever guessed that she had just _kissed_ their old Potions Master. The thought made her somewhat giddy.

She was back with them, with her friends, the people who felt like family, and the last time she had felt this lonely was in her first few months at Hogwarts.

* * *

"Something's wrong with her," Ron whispered to Harry, staring out the kitchen window at the woman sitting alone at the top of a hill, watching the sea.

Bill frowned at his little brother. "She was tortured, Ron. Tortured and healed by some mysterious person she won't name. She has 'mudblood' carved into her fucking arm."

His wife came over, laying a hand on his back. "Language, mon amour. Give her time, boys. She's healed with the body, but perhaps not with the mind."

* * *

They were in the Shrieking Shack, crowded under the cloak in a dusty tunnel. Harry was at the front of the tunnel, looking at a scene which Hermione and Ron could only hear.

Hermione's heart was thudding in her throat.

"Master the wand, and I master Potter at last," Voldemort was saying, his words sibilant and soft.

And then Severus' voice- "My Lord-"

Hermione's eyes widened in horror as a horrible hissing sound came from Voldemort's throat. Harry gasped, and there was the sound of flesh tearing and breath gurgling, and a scream, a terrible scream from Severus.

"I regret it," said Voldemort coldly.

The only sounds were the breathing of the three, loud in such a small space, and the rasping sounds of Severus trying to take in air. As soon as Voldemort was gone, Harry levitated the box blocking the tunnel out of the way, and she rushed to him.

There was blood all over the floor, blood staining Hermione's jeans as she kneeled in it to see Severus. She was crying outright now, tears falling down her face.

"Give... it... to... him." said Severus, breathing out a cloud of memory. Hermione hastily conjured a vial, shoving it into Harry's hands for him to collect. Hermione put her wand at Severus' neck, going through every healing incantation she knew.

"Ron, get the Essence of Dittany and all of the Blood Replenishers," she choked, shoving the beaded bag at Ron. "Now!"

"But-" She turned, glaring at him.

"This man saved my life and I am going to bloody well save his," she said dangerously. "Harry, he gave you those memories because there's something important in them. Go see. Ron, _get me those potions._ "

Both boys stood there, looking at her. "Now!" snapped Hermione. Harry nodded, turning and loping out of the room, running toward the castle if Hermione was correct. Ron Summoned the correct potions from her bag, handing them to her silently.

"Look... at... me," Severus rasped.

Hermione did as he asked, looking deep into his eyes. There was a pushing sensation and he was in her mind, showing her something forcefully.

_The antivenin_

With a gasp she pulled the necklace from her neck, uncorking it and pouring the antivenin down his throat. The Essence of Dittany was poured directly onto the wound, and the Blood Replenishers followed the antivenin.

The color was beginning to come back to his face, his breathing eased. Tears fell from her face to his as the horrible gaping wound began to knit, as the skin began to close along the gash.

He would live. He had to live.

* * *

St. Mungo's was filled with people: those who had been hurt in the Battle of Hogwarts, those visiting friends or family members, and the normal flood of magical accidents that always followed a large celebration.

Hermione navigated through it all determinedly, weaving through those with burns from fireworks or spells, transfigured animal heads, and more permanent spell injuries. She saw Parvati going up the stairs a flight ahead of her- probably to visit Lavender, who had been attacked by Greyback.

Severus Snape was in a private room. Hermione was unsure if it was because the hospital had already heard how Harry Potter had defeated Voldemort, or if they had just thought that Severus wouldn't play nice with other patients. Either way, it was the best choice.

A Healer was exiting as she entered, bearing a tray full of empty potion flasks. She squinted at Hermione, tilting her head. "Are you the one... you know..."

_You know what? The one who helped Harry Potter? The one who saved Severus Snape? The one who got tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange?_

Hermione raised her eyebrows, trying to convey her annoyance in one look. The Healer blushed and hurried off with a muttered apology. With a sigh, Hermione moved into the room.

"I took all the potions already-" Severus began to snap, but he fell silent when he saw Hermione. His voice had a hoarse, strained quality that made her tripes clench- this wasn't the silky voice she had ha

She walked toward the side of his bed, taking in the bright white bandages against the sallow tone of his skin. He was scowling, at her or at the situation she didn't know.

"I came as soon as I could," Hermione said quietly. "How are you?"

His eyes were intense, burning black in his face. "I should be dead, by all rights," he told her. "You were supposed to let me die."

"I couldn't," said Hermione resolutely. "You saved my life- I couldn't just let you die. And you didn't want to die- you told me to get the antivenin."

Severus frowned at her. "Still. Here I am, with no family nor friends, no job, and Azkaban on the horizon."

She frowned back at him, taking a seat in the uncomfortable visitor's chair. "One friend and no Azkaban. There's no doubt you'll be exonerated, Severus. Lauded as a hero, definitely- there's talk of an Order of Merlin, first class."

He was quiet, considering the news for a long moment. "Why?"

"Because Harry used your betrayal to kill Voldemort," Hermione answered. "The memories you gave him of his mother- all of that, he used it to destroy that _thing_ and told everyone that you're a hero. And since then there have been letters pouring in from people you've rescued- no one, including me and Harry, is going to let you go to Azkaban without a huge fight."

Impulsively, she reached out and covered his hand with hers. His was cold, his knuckles bony under her hand. "Everything's going to be okay."

Slowly his hand turned up under hers, moving until their fingers were intertwined. "Thank you." It was a breath, barely audible.

Even so, tears welled up in her eyes. "Of course."

Ever so carefully, he raised their clasped hands to his mouth, where he pressed the smallest of kisses to the back of her hand. "Thank you," he breathed.

The war was over, the Dark Lord was dead, and somehow, everything was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are deeply appreciated! I also have a kofi (link on my bio, can also be found under ausland) if you are feeling extra generous!
> 
> I also have many other oneshots, short stories, and even one giant story for this couple!

**Author's Note:**

> So ends Part One! I'll add Part Two next week. 
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! If you are feeling extra generous, my kofi link is on my page!


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